The Hangover
by noiproksa
Summary: Neal and Peter wake up one morning with no recollection of what happened the previous day. When it turns out that they might have been involved in an art heist, they have to figure out what happened as soon as possible. gen, friendship.


Neal woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of … anything really. Was he on the run? Which country was he in? He looked around the apartment - eerily familiar - and noticed a softly snoring lump on the couch. Also very familiar.

Wait a second. Agent Peter Burke! That gave Neal the much needed boost of adrenaline and he got up and stumbled halfway to the door - before he remembered that Peter wasn't the enemy anymore. He didn't need to run from him.

As his memory of where he was slowly came back - USA, check. New York, check. His apartment at June's, check - he made his way over to Peter, who continued to snore on his couch, unperturbed.

Neal poked him carefully. When nothing happened, he poked him again, a little harder this time, and finally, Peter woke up with a start.

He squinted up at Neal before closing his eyes against the light, groaning and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Neal." For some reason, he didn't sound too happy to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"Right back atcha."

Peter opened his eyes again and sat up on the couch, taking in his surroundings. Then he amended, "What am I doing here?"

Neal didn't have an answer to that so he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you … remember anything?" Peter asked who clearly had the same problems getting his memory back.

"Yeah."

Peter looked up at him, clearly surprised but also hopeful that Neal might be able to tell him what had happened.

"I'm working with you now," Neal said because that was pretty much all he had been able to come up with since waking up. He closed his eyes and tried to remember anything about the day before, but he drew a blank.

"Wait a second," he said when he vaguely remembered something. "We were working the Manson case, right?"

"Yes!" Peter said, excited, clicking his fingers. "Anything else?"

But as hard as Neal tried to fill in the blanks, he couldn't remember the night before for the life of him.

Peter was looking around the apartment in the meantime, apparently hoping to find something to jog his memory.

"Neal?"

"Yeah," Neal said absent-mindedly, still trying to fill in the huge gap in memory.

"Why is there a Van Gogh in your apartment?"

Neal followed Peter's line of sight and groaned inwardly at the beginner's mistake he'd made. He should have checked that there was nothing illegal lying around before waking Peter up.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully.

Peter looked at him meaningfully.

"Maybe I bought it."

Peter just continued looking at him.

"Maybe _you_ stole it!" Neal gave it another try, affronted that Peter immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion (that was, granted, the same Neal had come to).

"Yes. _That's_ most likely what happened."

But before either of them could say or do anything else, Peter's cell phone rang.

With another look at Neal that clearly said that the conversation was not over yet, Peter took out his cell and answered it.

"Yeah. … I know. - I mean … it was? That is news to us … I mean, to me."

Neal rolled his eyes at Peter tumbling over his words. Amateur liars!

"Thanks, Di. We'll be right there."

Peter hung up and faced Neal. "Guess what was stolen last night?"

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say … a Van Gogh?"

"This is not funny, Neal!" Peter started, but then he noticed something on his cell phone and said, "Hang on. You left me a message."

"I did?" Neal asked, trying to remember. "Well, let's hear it!"

Peter pushed a button and a second later, Neal's own voice said, "_Hey Peter. I think I'm about to do something that you might consider … 'stupid and impulsive'._"

Peter scowled at Neal. "No kidding!"

"Shhh!" Neal shushed him so that he could understand what his past self was saying on the voice mail.

"_But I think I have a way to catch Manson. So … maybe you want to be there for backup? Anyway, we're at 179 West 4th Street so if you have time to stop by …"_

"We?" Peter mouthed at Neal, but in that moment a voice chimed in from the background.

"_Oh! Tell him to bring his stun gun!_"

"Is that _Mozzie_?" Peter asked.

"_He doesn't _have_ a stun gun_!" said Neal on the phone.

"_That's what he wants you to believe!_"

In the here and now, Peter shook his head. "Of _course_ it's Mozzie!"

"_You might have a point there,"_ Neal conceded meanwhile, and then spoke up louder again, "_And bring your stun gun. Oh, and those crackers Elizabeth always buys. I have a strange craving for crackers and they overcharge here for everything!_"

With that, the voice mail ended.

Peter looked at his cell for a moment before putting it back in his pocket and addressing Neal. "Were you _drunk_?!"

Neal rolled his eyes. "Like that's a revelation at this point."

"Well, it shows that you were the one getting me into this. Not that _that's _a surprise."

"You're responsible for your own choices," Neal said. "Doesn't matter if someone asks you nicely; if you do it, you're as much to blame."

Peter looked at him, rendered speechless.

Neal grinned at him broadly. "Yeah, didn't think your lectures would come back and bite you in the ass, did you?"

"I'm just baffled to find out you actually listen to me."

But Neal was done listening for now. He needed answers, and so he took out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Mozzie," Neal said while scrolling down to Mozzie's number. "Apparently he was with me last night. Maybe he can shed some light on what happened."

Peter's jacket pocket began to buzz and he patted himself down until he found a cell phone in his left jacket pocket. He looked down at it and up at Neal, then down again.

After a couple of rings Neal hung up.

"Did you …" Neal shook his head in order to come to grips with what was happening here. When that didn't help make more sense of the situation, he tried again, "Did you steal Mozzie's cell phone?" He looked at Peter incredulously.

"I don't know."

Neal continued looking at him.

"Maybe I borrowed it."

"Mozzie doesn't just lend his cell phone to people. Especially not to a fed. - No offense."

"None taken."

"I can't believe that you stole Mozzie's cell phone," Neal mumbled more to himself.

"Would you let it go already? At least I didn't go and steal a Van Gogh!" Peter said, pointing at said painting.

"We don't know that for sure," Neal countered.

"Oh come on, Neal! There's you, there's me, and there's a stolen painting …"

"Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke," Neal threw in, but Peter talked right over him, "… It doesn't take much to put two and two together here."

"You gonna use that argument in court?"

"I might," Peter replied. Then he started emptying his pockets and put his cell phone, his wallet and a pair of familiar looking glasses on the table.

"Oh my God, those are Mozzie's!" Neal exclaimed. "Peter," he then said dryly, "be honest. Did you finally snap and kill Mozzie?"

"Would you stop it?" Peter said exasperatedly. "You may have stolen a priceless piece of art last night, so stop having so much fun with this!"

"You're no fun when you're hung over, you know that?" Neal asked mulishly.

Peter sighed as he rubbed his face. "This is evidence. We have to bring it in."

"What are you, crazy?"

"Neal, we don't even remember what happened yesterday …"

"Exactly! Which is why we should go check out the address I left on your voice mail. Figure out what happened before we do anything rash."

Peter rubbed a hand over his face and sighed yet again. "Okay," he finally relented. "We can stop by there, do a little investigating on our own. But I told Diana we'd be at the bureau shortly, so we don't have much time. - It would really help if you could remember something."

"Or _you_ could try and remember something," Neal pointed out.

"You're young and dynamic. You shouldn't have any trouble getting over a little hangover."

"Playing the age card. Devious," Neal said admiringly. Then he grinned at Peter. "In that case, try and keep up, gramps."

Reviews are always greatly appreciated.


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